


Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Rubbery Chicken

by cinder1013



Series: Rubbery Chicken Universe [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Fix-it, M/M, Not Blaine Friendly, kurt is really talented and can do it all, not monogamous, spoilers for episodes 5x18 and 5x19, very brief rpf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinder1013/pseuds/cinder1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt gives Blaine his freedom so he can pursue his career with June's help, even though it breaks his heart.</p><p>Santana always says that he's too nice, but sometimes karma gives back in spades. </p><p> </p><p>**A fix-it fic for the horrible possible June future. Spoilers for episodes 5x18 and 5x19. Trying to get this out before it's jossed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Rubbery Chicken

In the end, with Kurt’s heart break and blessing, he let Blaine go so he could follow his dreams with June’s help. Blaine tried so hard to include him, so hard to remain true - Kurt couldn’t fault him. He couldn’t fault June either, for her insistence that Kurt held Blaine back. 

“Two people is so much more difficult. We can’t always do everything together. I’m here, I support you, I’m cheering for you, but you have this huge opportunity. It would be criminal of me if I told you not to go for it.” 

June asked Blaine to move to LA so he could become famous under her tutelage. 

“You promised to never say goodbye,” Blaine said. 

“This isn’t goodbye. It’s not goodbye, is it?” Kurt kissed him hard. “Go follow your dreams.”

“Come with me,” Blaine insisted. 

“No. NYADA and _Vogue_ are the places for me and I can’t leave my band.” 

“But you’ll wait for me?” Blaine asked. 

“No. If you know that I’m waiting for you, you’ll wait. It will be this waiting thing. Go, do, be famous! Be successful! Be amazing! And I will always be cheering for you.”

“And someday?” 

“Who knows.” Kurt bit his lip and looked away. “No, I shouldn’t say that. Blaine, go live your life like every moment is the best moment ever. Don’t live it in the hope that we will intersect again someday.” 

Reluctantly, Blaine said goodbye.

For a long time, Kurt didn’t follow his own advice. He pined after Blaine madly. Each of Blaine’s appearances were posted on youTube. Immediately he gained a following and Kurt was one of them. 

Slowly, Elliott pulled him back to reality. “Kurt, you are amazing. You are so amazingly amazing and you need to live. Isn’t that what you said to him?” 

“You said you could see why Blaine and I were forever.” 

“And I think June was wrong. I think you 2 could have done it, but you chose not to.” Elliott got right in his face. “You chose to let Blaine go so he could have this opportunity. Now you need to let go also, because she was so wrong. You are just as talented and incredible as Blaine.” He grinned. “Now, go dancing with me. We’re going to get wasted and do stupid things.”

“The last time I did that, I ended up with a stupid tattoo and a tongue ring.” 

“Which is not half as crazy as shit can get.” He opened Kurt’s closet with flourish. “How come I have not seen half of these outfits?” He pulled out a tight pair of leather pants and a purple houndstooth vest. “These are must.” 

“I don’t know -”

“I do! Look at you! You’re not even trying!” Elliott tossed the clothes onto the bed and then went hunting for more. “You wore sweats earlier this week. Sweats. I didn’t even know you owned sweats.” 

“They once belonged to someone else. Which is not the point. I know what you’re trying to do, Elliott Gilbert. You’re trying to get me laid. I’m not ready and it’s not happening.” 

Elliott yanked out a t-shirt that read, _Property of the McKinley High Football Team_. “Really?” 

“I was a kicker.” 

“I bet you were.” Elliott waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Come on, get dressed. I’ll do your eyeliner. You need to go out. I won’t make you get laid yet, but it’s coming. You’re forewarned. I am not going to let you mope anymore.” 

“I’m not moping.” 

“Not anymore!” He bullied Kurt into an outfit and then dragged him out to the craziest club he could find. “Hello all!” he bellowed, walking in. “This is Kurt Hummel and he needs a drink!” 

Amazingly, at least to Kurt, there were tons of men willing to get him drunk and dance with him until dawn. However, Elliott took him home. They kissed for the first time early the next morning. 

Guilt rushed in. “I cannot believe! I am so sorry! I’m leading ... yeah.” 

“Kurt, Kurt, stop that! You’re not leading me on,” Elliott assured him. “If anyone knows how you’re feeling right now, it’s me, right? Right? I’m not trying to get with you. I know you’re in a bad headspace. I know we’re not meant to be together because usually I prefer guys with arm hair.”

“I have arm hair!” 

“Visible arm hair.” Elliott pulled and pulled until Kurt finally tumbled back into his lap. “I was wrong. You have too many muscles. Go mope some more and lose them. It’s too hard to manhandle you this way.” 

“Never! I am never, ever going to walk away from my dream or mope until I don’t look good in my new Canali pants!” 

“That’s the spirit!” Elliott hauled him in (but with great difficulty) for a big, messy smooch. “Now, go great dressed in 1 of those fabulous outfits of yours. We’re going for brunch at this place that makes excellent morning after bloody marys.” 

Breakfast was indeed fabulous. 

Kurt didn’t really start dating again after that. Mostly he hung out with Elliott and his on again, off again stud, Mikael. “He really is a stud,” Kurt had to agree. He looked like a young Dolph Lundgren. 

And he hung with his girls. 

And his new friends. 

Life slowly moved on. 

Oh, he spoke with Blaine when they could. They were still besties, right? Blaine’s star was rising quickly thanks to June. He had a standing gig at a Las Vegas casino and a forthcoming album. 

Carmen was the closest she ever came to being visibly upset about the whole mess. “Mr. Hummel!” she called to him, stopping him in the hall. 

Turning, he pushed his way back through the throng of students to her, stepping into her office at her invitation, a bright, cheery, affected smile on his face. 

“How are you?” she actually asked. This did not portend good things. 

“Have I let my classes slip in some way?” 

“Not at all. You’re doing very well. In fact several have improved, which I can only attribute to you no longer being distracted by someone attempting to gain your favor.” She smiled. “Sit.” She looked at him, with that calm, careful, inspection. For the first time Kurt didn’t feel like speaking first, so he sat back and waited. 

“I did not mean for that to happen,” she finally said. “I meant to give _you_ an opportunity. You should have taken it for yourself. _She_ should have seen the incredible talent and drive in one of my best students.” 

“Ma’am? Is this about Blaine?” 

“Perhaps it’s for the best. I knew when he had to redo his mid-winter critique that he didn’t have what it took.” She smiled. “But you do.”

Kurt didn’t know what to say. For the first time he wondered if Carmen’s sense of these things was really that good. Her concentrating on him rather than people who succeeded like Blaine and Rachel ... or maybe, in that moment, he only sat here in her office because she had no one else left. 

She leaned forward, offering him an ecru envelope. “Mr. Hummel, this is an invitation for my master class. Should you accept, you will be doing your vocal training with me personally. I fail 65% of my students and send most of them away weeping in shame.” 

“You think I’ll fail?”

“I think you’ll do well.” They stared at one another for just a moment more. “You may go now.” 

Quite confused, Kurt rose from his chair and headed for the door. 

“Oh, Kurt.” 

He turned back. 

“I’m glad your band got back together. I enjoy listening to you.” Then she put her head down, effectively dismissing him entirely, although he noticed a tiny smirk lurking around the corners of her mouth. 

Later, sitting down to their weekly potluck dinner (which now included Dani and Elliott), Kurt said, “I can’t believe she likes my band.”

“Who wouldn’t love Pamela Landsbury?” Elliott asked. “And I’m so glad we got back together.” 

Isabelle surprised him as well. “Kurt!” She caught his elbow just as he was leaving for the night. “Hi! Come talk to me. Come, come!” She dragged him into her office. “So, guess who I got a call from?” 

“Considering I answered your phone all day -”

“Yesterday. You’ll never guess. Name someone absolutely impossible.” 

“Sebastian Smythe, Dustin Goolsby ... uh ... Carmen Thibodaux -”

“Yes! Wow, you guessed it!” 

“Madame Thibodaux called you?” 

“I know, right? But she’s really concerned about you. She and I talked about how you’re not being challenged in the costuming design program at NYADA, how you need more to engage you.” She grinned. “She wanted to know if I could help arrange for substitute classes for you at Parsons. Which I did!” 

“Wait, Madam Thibodaux thinks I’m not challenged enough?” 

“Yes.” 

Kurt tipped his head from one side to the other. “Parsons?”

“Here.” She handed him one of her messy post-it notes. “I took the liberty of signing you up for a history of fashion course. You can take 2 more this semester, but I looked them over and if you can get into Professor Poiret’s Draping and Design class, do it.” 

“I don’t know if I’m up to taking a draping class.” 

“You completely are. Kurt, you can do whatever you set your mind to, except for possibly singing polka. Now, go sign up before things disappear!” 

So, on Thursdays and Fridays Kurt went down to Parsons and took History of Fashion, Draping and Design, and Advanced Pattern Design. 

It was while he was in lower Manhattan that he ran into the last person he expected. Well, not the last person, but certainly an unlikely individual. Ran into meaning there was now coffee all over his newly sewn shirt. “Sebastian?” 

“Oh, fuck me sideways with a nightstick.” 

“Well, I don’t have a nightstick, but I can use my scissors,” Kurt replied sweetly. Grabbing some napkins, he checked first to make sure they were all natural before dabbing at his shirt. 

“I think this pride float has flown,” Sebastian told him with a smirk. 

“I sincerely hope not. I just finished sewing this shirt.” 

“You sewed this? Meaning you designed this?” 

“Well, yes.” 

Sebastian just stared before admitting, “Well, it’s ... nice.” 

“Nice?” 

“I refuse to utter the F word. How about _really nice_?”

“It’ll do.” Kurt gave up and tossed the napkins in the trash. “Maybe no one will notice before I get it home and soak it.” 

“I ... I kind of love it.” 

“It’s the flipped up collar.” 

“Probably,” Sebastian laughed. 

And Kurt’s shirt did sport a flipped up collar. Blood red material pulled tight across his muscular frame. There were zippers along each of his arms and up his sides, pulling the material in to emphasize his small waist. 

Sebastian hemmed and hawed for a moment. “May I escort you home?” he finally said. 

“I’m not sure I want you to know where I live. You might ... do awful things to it.” 

“I swear on the oath of a boyscout, I will not.” 

“You were a boyscout?” 

“No, but I’ve blown a few and what swims in the tummy is yummy for the soul.” 

Kurt giggled and then laughed and then, well, he couldn’t stop until there were tears in his eyes. “Alright mister pseudo boyscout, if you have nothing else to do, escort me home and watch _Bletchly Circle_ with me.” 

Elliott called about an hour later and, after determining Kurt was home, came to join, although he insisted they watch _Sherlock_ next. 

That’s how Rachel and Santana found them, on the couch watching TV, Kurt in his undershirt because his new shirt was soaking. Well, Kurt was watching TV. Sebastian and Elliott were making out. 

“Kurt!” Rachel screeched. “You let that thing into our home!” 

“Shhh, John’s about to talk about their relationship.” 

Santana plopped down on the couch to watch. 

“Really?” Sebastian asked, lifting his head. Elliott went for the neck. “Why didn’t ... didn’t ... oh, that’s gonna mark.” 

They all watched in silence (well, mostly silence - Elliott didn’t stray from sucking loudly on Sebastian’s neck) until John stormed out in exasperation. Kurt paused the show. 

“I ran into him downtown,” Kurt said, continuing the earlier thread of conversation. “My sheer shock at seeing a familiar face overrode my sense of self-preservation.” 

“I like your lack of self-preservation,” Elliott murmured. He finally looked up. “Besides, coming home and seeing you with a guy is healthy.” 

“Yes, my sweet fairy godmother.” 

“It is, kind of,” Santana admitted. “But you,” she pointed at Sebastian, “be nice to Kurt or I’ll put a stiletto through your eye. And no eggs in Berry’s hair either.” 

“That was someone else,” Rachel pointed out, helpfully. “Still, if you want to try to blind Blaine again, no one is stopping you.” She sashayed over to the kitchen area. “Will I hurt anything by making tea?” 

“Go ahead,” Kurt told her, rising. He rinsed out the shirt and laid it flat on a towel near, but not over, the old radiator. 

“You all know him?” Elliott asked, finally looking up. “And you tried to blind Blaine? Good for you!” He snogged a surprised Sebastian hard. 

“You thought I just brought a random home?” Kurt asked, amused. “And then watched TV with him until you came over to make-out with him?” 

Elliott shrugged. “I didn’t have much to go on.” 

“That is pathetic, Kurt.” Sebastian chuckled, running his fingers over Elliott’s scalp, but he didn’t take his eyes off Kurt, a fact that the others in the loft didn’t miss. “Where is short and sexy anyway?” 

“We broke up,” Kurt told him, rather primly. “He had an opportunity that couldn’t be passed up. I told him to go for it.” 

Sebastian absorbed that for a moment. “I think you’re too nice.” 

“He’s too nice to all of us,” Santana told him grimly. 

“Last week he gave me the most amazing solo that should have been his,” Elliott admitted. 

“He used his contacts at _Vogue_ to get an article for Aretha and I,” Santana said. 

“And what is wrong with that?” Kurt asked. 

“When are you going to get an article for yourself?” 

“When I need one! When I deserve one! I don’t know!” 

“Pamela Landsbury is becoming a thing,” she said. “Ride it!” 

“Not yet, and I’m sorry Elliott, but I want to finish school. I realize you had to follow your dreams, Rachel, but I think school is important and it makes me a better artist.” He smiled. “My voice class with Madam Thibodaux has been so amazing.” 

“You have a voice class with Carmen Thibodaux?” Sebastian asked, skeptically. 

“You know who she is?” 

Sebastian just sighed. 

“So, tell me how you tried to blind Blaine,” Elliott encouraged. “With my help, we can be successful next time.”

* * *

Somehow, Sebastian fit right into their group. He began by helping Elliott drag Kurt out to have a good time. Slowly he merged into their pot luck, mostly because he brought Mac&Cheese from Tipsy Parson and he had them put extra bacon on it for Mercedes. Soon enough, he was attending all their shows and events. 

He bumbled around for a year, trying to get up the courage to ask Kurt out, before Kurt finally had pity on him. 

“Would you like to go to Artie’s film festival thing with me?” Kurt asked. 

“Umm, well, yeah, if ...” Sebastian cleared his throat and stood up tall. “Yes, I would.” 

“Good. Wear the purple shirt.” 

The purple shirt being 1 Kurt designed and made himself. They all wore what Kurt called experiments (and what Elliott called, “Hot, damn, yeah, make me more!”) now. Artie even sported a pair of frames of Kurt’s design. 

The date went well, so they had a few more and a few more after that and many more after that. Kurt stayed over at Sebastian’s at least as often as he came home. 

During this time, he had a few off-off-Broadway parts and fairly steady business as a costume specialist, particularly as one who came in at the last minute and saved the day. He also stayed on at _Vogue_ and answered the Contact Us portion of the website, occasionally writing an article or a blog post. It brought in enough money to get by. 

It was a friend of a friend of Maggie Banks who helped Kurt in his big breakthrough. She liked the hat Kurt made for Maggie and raved about it and the talented young man behind it to her godson, George. At her insistence, George made a quick visit. 

“What are you 2 up to?” Kurt asked suspiciously, seeing the way Maggie and her friend Janice were giggling into their hands. 

“Oh, nothing! We just wanted to hear you sing!” Maggie insisted. “Can’t an old lady hear a nice song now and then?” 

“I still don’t trust you, but you both know I’m a sucker.” Riffling through his bag, he pulled out some sheet music and handed it to the guy who always played the piano. “I hope you girls like “Le Jazz Hot.” It’s one of my standard pieces. Let me know farther in advance next time and I’ll be happy to put something special together.” 

“Oh, no, Kurt, you’re always special,” Maggie told him with a huge grin. 

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her, but still began to sing. As soon as the first notes rang out from his lips, he relaxed into the song the way Carmen taught him. The notes rang out full and wild. Pulling Maggie and Janice forward he danced with them as he sang.

Peripherally, he knew someone walked in during his performance, but this was about 2 of his girls and as such, he wasn’t going to give them less than 100%. He only woke to the other presence when he heard clapping at the end. 

“Oh, hi, I ... OMG! You’re George Clooney!” 

“And, you’re Kurt.” The man was smoother than velvet. 

“I... I am.” He looked at his girls. “This is your doing, I suppose? You do know he’s already married.” 

They tittered even harder. 

Stepping forward, George offered his hand, which Kurt shook with the grip he’d inherited from his father. “I think they know. This one -” He gestured to Janice. “set me up with my wife in the first place.” He laughed, his eyes sparkling. “They’ve told me a lot about you, Kurt, both about your talent and your generosity.” 

“I’m sure they exaggerate.” 

“Well, they’re not exaggerating about talent; I can see that much.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what to say. “So, uh, what brings you to this ... establishment?” 

“Janice.” 

Janice giggled so hard, she had to sit down. Maggie shoved at Kurt. “Ask him!” she hissed. 

“Ask him what?” he whispered back. 

Exasperated, Maggie turned to George. “Kurt would like to make you a suit.” 

“Really? You sew and sing?” 

“I ... do. I’m...” Kurt took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, “I’m a designer. And an actor and singer and dancer.” 

“That’s some versatility.” 

“You know, James Cagney could tap dance and shoot a tommy gun.” 

George laughed again. “So true. Mom always said he danced like a dream. So, is what you’re wearing right now something you’ve designed?” 

“It is, in fact. And - Oh! You 2!” Kurt pointed accusingly. “When you asked to see my new outfit I made, you were totally setting this up!” The ladies grinned unrepentantly. Maggie gestured with a “you go, girl!” 

“Yes, Mr. Clooney, I would like to make a suit for you. I’m a fantastic designer and a fantastic singer/dancer/actor.” 

“Please, call me George.” 

So, Kurt made George Clooney a suit, which he expected to disappear into the back of Mr. Clooney’s closet. Instead it got play. He wore it out all the time it seemed like and if anyone asked, he wasn’t shy about saying it was hand made by an up and coming designer named Kurt Hummel. Then Rachel was asked about her dress (a cute little Jackie Kennedy-esque number) and Sam got caught wearing a shirt he made. 

Two weeks later he had a call from Angelina Jolie’s assistant, asking him to make her a dress for the SAG awards. 

That wasn’t the end though, oh no. At the home, Billie felt left out, so he called in a favor from an old friend, Harry, and asked him to cast Kurt in a small role in the upcoming movie he’d be shooting. Indiana Jones V. Kurt played a bartender who told Shia LeBeouf “the woman you’re looking for is over there.” 

Not exactly the big time, still, his friends all liked to point out he made the big screen before Blaine. By 2 months, Kurt would add, and Blaine’s role hugely exceeded his, but it still kind of felt good in the kernel of his soul. On the debut of Blaine’s movie he sent Blaine a dozen red roses with the note:

> For my favorite star in the cosmos.

\- which sounded good, but wasn’t true anymore.

When Sebastian graduated with his law degree, Kurt gave him 2 dozen roses and a passionate kiss for his hooding, the prelude to a night of hot sex, alone, just the 2 of them. 

Things moved fast after that. 

An opportunity to be in _Ocean's Fifteen_ as the villain. A chance to make his own fall line. An album. A concert in the park. 

He took them all. 

He turned down others or directed them toward friends. Santana still said he was too giving, but the karma seemed to be coming back on him full-force now. 

He and Sebastian bought a penthouse apartment together. Elliott joined them between boyfriends and he was always welcome. Or, as Sebastian put it, the things he could do with his tongue were the key to the front door. 

Elliott laughed when he found the silver envelope on Kurt's counter. "Seriously?" 

"I doubt she remembers who I am," Kurt said, without a trace of irony. 

"I know Blaine remembers who you are after he tried to hook back up with you last month." 

Kurt nodded, distracted by chopping vegetables for dinner. In his defense, Blaine never really got the idea of Kurt and Sebastian together. He tended to forget that Kurt had a boyfriend. 

"Don't you care?" Elliott asked. 

"Of course I care." Kurt set down his knife and came over to take the envelope. "I do, I just ... it doesn't make any difference if I accept or turn it down."

> Come one, come all and enjoy a night of music and love.  
>  A concert to benefit the Bronx Zoo  
>  Featuring David Zabel  
>  ~ June Dalloway

"Poor Blaine isn't her favorite anymore." Elliott tsk, tsk, tsked.

"Don't be cruel. He's still my friend." Kurt looked at the envelope again. "This though ..." He looked it over, flipping it back and forth. "I'm not sure what to do with it. Sebastian wants to piss on it and send it back, but I'm very sure June doesn't open her own mail." 

Elliott sighed. "You're still too nice." 

"Oh! I've just had an idea." Kurt grinned devilishly. Taking a pen from a kitchen drawer, he turned over the RSVP card and wrote:

> Kurt Hummel is unable to attend. He's too busy being 100 times more famous, wealthy, and talented than you predicted. Please remove him from your mailing list. Thank you.

"That feels satisfying." He grinned.

"You're not done yet." Elliott took a picture of the card on his phone and sent it to Santana, who he knew would find a gossip blogger to pass it onto. "Now it's perfect. So, want to go for sushi or stay here and keep mangling vegetables? I heard about this fantastic place. Seb can join us after work." 

"Sushi sounds great." Kurt slipped the RSVP into the envelope and sealed it. "We'll mail this on the way." 

Needless to say, June knew about the RSVP long before she received it in the mail.


End file.
